


The Isles' Next Top Empress

by Arrow101



Category: Dishonored (Video Games), Gideon the Ninth - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/F, Gen, No Gideon Doesn't Die in This One
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:08:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22636498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrow101/pseuds/Arrow101
Summary: Harrowhark Nonagesimus and Gideon Nav both resent their lots in life, as the daughter of a Tyvian High Judge and the servant of that same High Judge, respectively. Harrow has exactly the kind of attitude you would expect: cruel, iron-fisted, and a little bit snobbish. But she also works secretly with the revolutionaries trying to restore the Tyvian Princes to their former glory. Probably because they promised her a throne or something. Gideon has been in the Nonagesimus' service since she was a year old, shortly before Harrow was born. With no family to her name, she's been groomed since she was a child to one day join the Operators, Tyvia's secret police, a destiny she absolutely loathes.At least, until the death of Empress Emily Kaldwin. From old age, we'd like to point out. Still, without an heir to take her place, it changed everything. And the current regent has been having a time trying to find a proper replacement. So, he's invited some of the strongest candidates from all over the Isles to Dunwall Tower to be evaluated for the position. For some reason, he doesn't realize the potential risks of having everyone vying for the Empire's throne all under one roof. Go figure.
Relationships: Gideon Nav & Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Es-cah-pay!

For half the year, the sun never rose in the skies above Tyvia. This left it shrouded in a darkness that was only alleviated by whale oil lamps. During the summer, it was bitterly cold, but during these black months, it was nigh on inhospitable. The plants were sparse, the mountains were rough and covered in snow year round, and all of the animals were huge and had really big teeth and even bigger appetites. Not to mention, the ruling High Judges were just as cold and hard as the island they presided over. 

But the Tyvians were accustomed to the bleak landscape, the hostile environment, and the even more hostile governing body.

Unfortunately, despite being raised here, Gideon wasn't a goddamned Tyvian. She hated the cold and the dark, and ever since she was a child, dreamed of Serkonan beaches. And getting tan. And maybe getting laid. Tyvian ladies were born with a metal rod up their asses.

Tonight, that was all going to change. Gideon would finally be free, and not the sick version of freedom the High Judges considered "free" but really and truly free.

Gideon had already managed to book passage via railway from the Citadel to Caltan. They were both port cities with lots of ships coming and going, but due to Caltan's proximity to Morley and the distance from the capital city, they were much more relaxed about who came and went there. This also meant that there were more people there with Morleyan blood, which made it easier for Gideon to blend in with her bright red hair and slightly darker complexion. The trip on the railcar had gone smoothly, no one suspected anything, and it would be hours before they realized she was gone. It was, after all, technically day time. It was the least dark time of day (which meant it was still pretty fucking dark, honestly), and her training always took place during the darkest part of the night. As an added plus, it was when the most people were out and about, which made it much easier to blend in.

Of the 32 escapes that Gideon had been attempting since she was 6 years old, 26 of them had involved her making it to Caltan. Of those 26, she had actually managed to make it to Caltan 18 times. So by now, she knew the stone streets pretty well. They were covered in ice and snow and the wind beat down on her, but she had on her heavy, spiked winter boots, heavy wool coat, a face cover, and a whole lot of resolve. She stomped away down the streets toward the docks, the spikes on the bottom of her shoes crunching into the ice beneath her as she went.

There were only a few ships tied up to their respective piers. Winter had only just begun, and as such, the sea was on the verge of freezing over and would stay that way for months. Even these few ships would be leaving soon for warmer waters before then, and then Tyvia would be on its own for the remainder of the dark months. There were a few smaller fishing and merchant ships, but they were utterly dwarfed by the 2 massive whaling trawlers in the harbor. They almost looked like children's toys in comparison.

Gideon fished out a slip of paper from the depths of one of her pockets, checked the information, and set off in the direction of the furthest whaling trawler. She'd bribed the captain with just about everything she had saved up over the years to get her out of here, and he was all too happy to accept. With the season coming to an end, most of them would do just about anything to make a little extra coin.

Halfway down the pier was the gangplank, leading up to a small metal door that was already open. It was several feet over Gideon's head, but still not even halfway up to the deck. Gideon felt like a small child beside it. She readjusted the pack on her shoulder and set up the gangplank to the dark little hole that awaited her (that’s what she said).

But Gideon didn't get halfway up before a dark, thin shape swathed in black emerged from the hole and she stopped in her tracks. In the darkness, it was a moment before she could make out the shiny black mask of an Operator, and Gideon's gut fell abruptly.

"Shit," she muttered. Then, the Operator lifted their mask, and she hissed a little louder, "Fuck!"

Crux's ancient, grim face stared out at her for a moment, then started down the gangplank. Gideon didn't budge, just lifted her chin a little higher and gripped the longsword attached to her hip, and he stopped just short of their bodies touching.

Gideon wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Crux, you reek of old man smell, it's overpowering. Back the hell up before it makes me retch."

In his thick Tyvian accent, Cruz replied, "You assume I vant to avoid making you retch."

Gideon's face twisted into an expression of mock laughter. "Hilarious, Crux. Back off. I'm getting on that trawler, and I will knock you off this gangplank if I have to." Cruz was an ancient crone, and he looked it: he was thin and pale and the lines on his face were deep. Gideon was younger, and had both speed and skill with a sword on her side. Plus, in these close quarters, it would take hardly more than a push with her awesome muscles to send him tumbling over the edge.

A voice behind Crux spoke up. "Gideon, stop being an ass and step off the gangplank. Please."

Gideon peeked around Crux's side to see another figure, also dressed in a featureless black cloak and black Operator mask. This one didn't remove their mask, but Gideon recognized the voice all too well and she frowned. "Come on, Aiglamene! This doesn't have to be violent." Gideon flashed a grin at them. "Come on, come to Serkonos with me, huh?! I'll buy you guys a night in a brothel! Drinks on me too!"

"With what money, Gideon?" Aiglamene said. "You spent it all on this failed escape of yours."

The smile on Gideon's face fell. "Okay, number 1, fuck you guys, you're no fun. And number 2, hasn't failed yet!"

"Has too, Griddle." Gideon's jaw clenched instantly at the sound of that voice from behind her and her heart dropped along with her stomach. Very slowly, she turned on her heel to face her archnemesis.

The figure standing at the bottom of the gangplank was thin and covered from head to toe in heavy black robes. A lacy black veil covered her face, but despite the wind and the cold, they lifted it now to show their face.

Gideon hated to admit that Harrowhark Nonagesimus was beautiful... actually, she flat out refused to, despite the evidence to the contrary. Harrowhark was rail thin, which was admittedly unusual for someone born and raised from and by other incredibly hardy Tyvians. Her face was covered in the face paint the color of glimmering whale oil she favored so, except for around her eyes, which was covered in coal-black makeup instead. Overall, she gave a very spectre-like impression, which didn't help the rumors that she was marked by the Outsider.

Gideon knew that Harrow wasn't actually marked. She just really, really had a thing for the witch aesthetic. And it kinda worked for her.

The cruel smirk on Harrow's face also, unfortunately, worked for her.

"Oh, c'mon Harrow. We both know you hate my guts!" Gideon wasn't quite pleading, because that wasn't her style. Just appealing to Harrow's inner (and outer) bitch. "No greater pleasure for you than seeing me gone right?"

"You're only right on one of those counts, Griddle. I absolutely hate you, but my greatest pleasure is making your life hell, we both know that."

Gideon took a step back, and bumped right into Crux, who grunted and took advantage of the fact that Gideon was momentarily unbalanced. He shoved her forward with all of his might, which was admittedly not very much. Still, it was enough to send Gideon stumbling down the gangplank, struggling to find her footing on the steep incline. Right at the bottom, she lost it entirely on the slight step down and landed in a heap at Harrow's feet.

Harrowhark turned her over with her boot. Frankly, Gideon was astounded she managed that with next to zero muscle mass in her body. Harrowhark grinned down at Gideon, a dazzlingly mischievous expression, which meant bad news for Gideon. Gideon made to get up, but Crux and Aiglamene were both there with their boots pressing into Gideon's chest. Aigalamene's was particularly heavy, since it was made of metal.

“Now,” Gideon said as she replaced the veil over her face. “I have a proposition for you, Nav.”

“Let me save you some time,” Gideon grunted. Despite knowing her efforts were futile, Gideon continued to struggle against the oppressive boots on her chest. “I’m not interested.”

“Shut up and let me-”

“No you shut up! I’m sick of this shitty island, I’m sick of the stupid politics, and most of all, I’m sick of you!”

Gideon could hear the clenched teeth Harrow spoke through when she replied, “Dammit, Nav! The Empress is dead!”

Gideon finally went still and looked at Harrow in surprise. Sure, Empress Emily Kaldwin was in her 90s and it had been expected for a while. The surprise was more about what that had to do with literally any of them. And what kind of proposition for Gideon would even remotely involve the Empress.

Instead of asking any of these questions, Gideon said, “Aww! And she was such a GILF!”

And at that, Aiglamene’s metal foot came down on Gideon’s head and the world faded away.


	2. Dream Sequences Are The Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harrow receives a visit from The Outsider and all she gets is a lousy hand tattoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to [getbreqed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/getbreqed) for beta-ing for me!

Harrowhark woke with a gasp and an involuntary jerk. It was kind of like that feeling just before you fall asleep, when you feel like you’re falling and then you suddenly jerk back to full consciousness, but it was so violent she nearly fell out of her bunk. For a moment, she had no idea what had woken her up. Had she been having a nightmare? She didn’t remember having one, which was odd in and of itself because she had had nightmares about people being killed mercilessly for as long as she could remember. But if her usual recurring nightmare hadn’t woken her, what had?

After lying very still for a few minutes, racking her brain trying to figure out what the hell had woken her so abruptly, she came to a startling realization.

The ship had completely stopped moving. Everything was silent. No swaying, no sound of waves beating against the hull, not even the sound of Gideon’s horribly loud snoring.

Wait. Where was Gideon?

Harrow sat bolt upright and glowered in the direction of Gideon’s bunk. Empty. Harrow used a few choice words her mother would have tsk-tsk’d at. The ship had possibly run aground or become frozen in ice somehow, and now that insufferable girl had gone and bailed on her because of course she had.

Harrow stalked over to the door and threw it open. 

And she nearly stepped out into nothingness.

With a shriek that she would continue to deny ever happened with her last breath, she clung to the door frame and managed to stop herself from falling completely. The door was supposed to lead from their little cabin on this luxury passenger ship out onto the deck, but now it only led to the Void. A yawning expanse of swirling chaos, strange blurry land masses both impossibly far away and so close it seemed you could reach out and touch them, and -- wait, was that a floating whale carcass?

Oh… _oh_. There was _way_ more than just one floating whale carcass. 

Suddenly, the space in front of Harrow seemed to shimmer and swirl and distort itself until the Void formed itself into the visage of a young man not much older than Harrow herself. He had dark hair and pitch black eyes, and a really annoying smirk on his face as if he knew all of your darkest secrets and how to use them against you. He didn’t say anything, just hovered there a few feet in front of Harrow, watching her in silence with that stupid smirk on his face.

Harrow glowered at him. Yeah, she knew who he was. She’d seen paintings of him and read descriptions of him in her occult research. She knew enough about him to know that it didn’t bode well for her that he was visiting her in her dreams.

“So you are real,” was all she said.

The Outsider chuckled in response. “Well, that depends on your definition of reality, Harrowhark.” His voice sounded young and ancient, quiet and resounding with the echoes of the secrets of the universe. “But yes, for simplicity’s sake. I’m real.”

There were a few more moments of silence, and then Harrow started to get pissed off. “I’m sorry, do you have a reason for invading my dreams, or is this just how you get off?”

The Outsider hmph’d in amusement. “Ahh, young Harrowhark Nonagesimus… daughter of a High Judge of Tyvia and his stone-cold wife, secretly working for the Princes’ doomed revolution, agreeing to the Lord Regent’s invitation in the desperate hope it will help you restore them to their former glory… but to what end? What’s in it for you?”

Harrow scoffed. “Who wouldn’t want to be Empress of the Isles?”

The Outsider raised his eyebrows at her. “I think the tumultuous reign of the late Empress Emily and the untimely death of her mother Empress Jessamine before her might give plenty of people pause.”

Harrow scoffed. “All due respect to the Kaldwins, but I am different. They were soft-hearted and sentimental.”

“Unlike you, Harrowhark.” There was something uncomfortably familiar in the way he spoke to her. Like he had known her his whole life, and in the worst possible way. “You, who are haunted by the actions of your parents. You, whose nightmares are haunted every night by the people the Judges killed, and whose comrades you now risk your parents’ wrath to help. You are not sentimental? Or soft-hearted?”

Harrow’s jaw clenched harder with every word. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Outsider. Now let me wake up.”

“Don’t you want to hear my offer first?” The Outsider’s smirk seemed even more smug somehow, and Harrow narrowed her eyes. “You’ve done your research. You know what I can offer. Will you accept?”

Harrow’s shoulders tensed and her fingers started twitching involuntarily. She looked past the smug bastard of the Void to one of the rotting whale carcasses floating by in the distance. Could the stories really be true? Agents of the Outsider were granted special powers? It had been rumored for a long time that the Empress and her Royal Protector possessed such powers, and that the Usurper Empress years ago had been particularly gifted, but Harrow rarely believed anything she hadn’t seen with her own eyes. But if it was true… Harrow would go to just about any length to gain an advantage… She’d be an idiot to refuse, but what was the catch?

As if he were reading her mind, which he probably was, the Outsider said, “The only thing I ask in return is that you make this change in leadership… memorable.”

After a second more of thought, Harrow’s lips curled into a smirk. “Well, my life is nothing if not interesting… very well, Outsider, I accept your gift.”

The Outsider smiled and moved his hand in an excited little flourishing motion. Almost immediately, Harrow hissed in pain. The back of her hand felt like it was was being pierced by hundreds of tiny, white-hot needles. She held it up and watched as a mark she recognized from her research tattooed itself onto the back of her hand, and the initial feelings of pain and anger melted into fascination. When it finally finished, Harrow tore her eyes away to ask the Outsider what exactly he had given her, but he was gone. Figures.

Suddenly, The Outsider appeared behind her and leaned in to whisper into her ear. “Oh, and… keep your protector close. Gideon has a much more important role to play than either of you know.”

“Ugh.” Harrow grumbled as her cabin started to dissolve into the void. “Knew there was a catch.” 

Harrow’s eyes fluttered open and somehow she could tell this was the true waking world and not another of the Outsider’s tricks. The slow, steady rocking of the boat had returned, as had the sounds of the waves crashing against the hull. But one thing that had not returned was Gideon’s awful snoring.

Harrow twisted around in her bed quickly and, for what felt like the second time that night, glowered in the direction of Gideon’s cot.

Gideon was sitting up in her cot, staring wide-eyed right at her, her amber eyes bright and eerie in the dim light. When she spoke, it was with a high pitched crack in her voice that made her sound like a 14-year-old boy. “Heyyy, Harrow, uhh… have any weird dreams last night, or was that just me?”


End file.
